Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One Old Copper
by Egleriel
Summary: Discworld-LotR crossover, with elves, Orcs and Nobbses. A magical accident catapults Vimes into another dimension. And worse, he has to find his son in an unknown land, in the middle of a war that he seems to be in charge of... CHAPTER 11 is up.
1. Of Octiron and Sapient Pearwood

AN: Okay, to start with, I have permission to use these chapters. To continue, I've changed them a bit. To conclude, please enjoy.

**Chapter One: Of Octiron and Sapient Pearwood**

The first shot went wrong; the catch slipped off before the assassin could aim properly. The bolt buried itself deep in the flowerbed. The second shot was nearer the mark, hitting the wall of the huge house before clattering to the ground. The third shot was textbook: it flew straight, neatly punching through the glass. And it would also have punched through the skull of His Grace the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, had he not _at that very moment_ bent to rinse his razor. The arrow skimmed his neck en route to the wall, where it hit so hard that - though it smashed a tile - the pieces didn't even fall off. The arrow stood at the centre of a web of tiny cracks.

But by then, the assassin was gone.

Vimes thought he felt his heart stop when the arrow slammed into the wall. He twisted his head rapidly, but the arrow seemed to have come from nowhere. _Damn_. What had he expected, for the attacker to hang around? But he was off the register, and had been for over a year now. This wasn't a Guild job. This was far, far worse.

* * *

An hour later, most of the vast bathroom was cordoned off. "I've never seen anything like it, sir," said Cheery Littlebottom in an awed voice. "That arrow is worth about as much as a small country."  
Vimes frowned. "What size of a country are we talking about here?"  
"Lancre, maybe?" she hazarded,cursing Ankh-Morpork awkwardness."Possibly Ee?"  
"And how's that, exactly?"  
"The tip is octiron, sir."  
Vimes looked at it. "There's not that much of it."  
"No, sir. But the shaft is sapient pearwood."  
He goggled at her. "How can you tell?"  
Cheery gave him a worried look. "Well, sir," she moved as though to touch the arrow, "it's the way it wriggles when I go to pull it out."  
Vimes hastily shut his mouth.  
"Someone tried to kill me – with _that_?"  
"So it seems, sir."  
"But… _why_?"  
"You said you were dealing with that bit, sir."  
"No, I mean why would anyone make an arrow like that?"  
Cheery shrugged again. "It's intrinsically magical. I've heard of wizards making staffs out of sapient pearwood. I don't know how it would help, though. You can't put any spells _on_ it. Just through it."  
He nodded. "Right." Magic meant that it was not his problem. Well, it _was _his problem, but it made it all right for him to be a bit hazy on it. For now. "Get some wizards up here to take a look at that thing. Young ones, the older ones never seem to know what they're talking about. Unless food is involved," he added.


	2. Gone

**Chapter Two: Gone**

As he made his way down the epic staircase, Sam Vimes tried to make sense of the morning. What did he know? Not a lot. _Someone shot at me with a very expensive arrow_. That was it. He was disgusted with himself. He didn't who the attacker was, he didn't know where the attacker had shot from. The wizards couldn't tell him those things, unless they'd managed to do something useful with their powers.

"What's happening, Sam?" asked Sybil anxiously, when he came into the kitchen.  
"Oh, I don't know. Some wizards will be along in a few hours."  
"Wizards?"  
"Yes, dear." Vimes frowned. "It's very quiet in here. Where's Sam?"  
"Still sleeping," said Sybil.  
"Still? That's not like him."  
"It's certainly an improvement on the crack of dawn."  
"Mm."  
Sibyl sat down with her cup of tea. "It is _very_ late, though," she said.  
"I'll go up and check on him," said Vimes.

Sybil sipped her tea as she heard her husband slowly climb the stairs. She heard his footsteps echo in the hall above. She heard the door open. Twenty seconds later the footsteps were slamming back down the stairs.

"Sybil!" Sam yelled, "He's gone!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a breathless Sam Vimes demanded to see Archchancellor Ridcully. Carrot had once suggested using those omniscopes to see into the past and watch crimes and how they happened, but Vimes had put his foot down. He'd kept magic out of warfare and there was no chance of it getting into law enforcement.  
Until now. Vimes fully supported Carrot's belief that personal wasn't the same as important, but that didn't mean he could live by it.

"Ah, your grace," said Mustrum Ridcully, brushing some toast crumbs from his robe as he entered the Great Hall. "What brings you here this morning? I received your message, but I thought-"  
"Get me one of those omni-things. My son is missing."

"They are not meant to be used for personal reasons," was what Ridcully _didn't_ say. It was a sign of Vimes' desperation that he let 'Your Grace' slide and Mustrum noted it. He nodded instead. "Stibbons!"


	3. She

**Chapter Three: She**

Ponder Stibbons had been up all night. He'd been messing around with an Omniscope fragment when he'd come across a younger version of himself. _In another dimension_.

"...so of course we panned through the past and found - me - being assailed by flying shrouds. This is _very exciting_! We've seen similar creatures flying around that big eye that kept bothering us through R&D. It implies further gaps in the space-time continuum, we noticed a huge amount of them around for a while and _then_ they all suddenly closed up-"  
"_Stibbons_!"  
"Oh dear," said the Dean quickly, "It sounds like your expertise is needed elsewhere." He waddled away before Ponder could get started again.

* * *

"Stibb-" Ridcully stopped mid-roar as the young wizard scurried into the hall. "Took your time, didn't you? Get me one of those Omniscopes." The Archchancellor saw Ponder's worried glance at Vimes. "We're... helping the Watch with their inquiries."  
"Really, sir? But we haven't done anything wrong!"  
"Just- just do it, there's a good lad."

Ridcully tried humming a little, but that just seemed to make things worse. Wizards do not, of course, have children; they are instead attached to their badges of office, such as staffs or hats, but he quite liked the Commander of the City Watch. They shared a pragmatic approach to their jobs and, apart from that incident with the storm, generally didn't get in one another's way. But the man seemed crushed, somehow, by the very air. His angry energy had been used up in the sprint to the University.

"So, do you have anything belonging to young Sam?" he asked. "It tends to help the process along."  
Vimes wordlessly patted his pockets, then produced a blue dummy.  
"Wonderful."

* * *

This omniscope was portable, which merely meant it was of poorer quality, had a handle and was only slightly less heavy than other models. Ponder hefted it into the hall and placed it on a sideboard.

"And this thing will find my son?" asked Vimes doubtfully, as Ponder made a number of deft adjustments.  
"It should," said the young wizard. He took the dummy from Ridcully and placed it delicately on a flat piece of copper at the base. He tweaked it some more, then said, "Right..."

The picture on the screen changed. A great eye, rimmed with fire, appeared. Ponder's had shot out and twisted an instrument on the screen.  
"I thought we sent Collabone that ointment-" began Ridcully.  
"That isn't Professor Collabone," said Ponder excitedly, "it's the being I've told you about."  
"And what does this have to do with Sam?" Vimes interjected.  
"Oh, yes, right." Ponder reluctantly turned the instrument again.  
More images flashed by: rivers, waterfalls, vast tracts of grassland, forests, mountains - and finally, a small boy.  
Vimes gasped.  
"Is that him?" asked Ponder, somewhat redundantly.  
"Yes! Now where the hell is he?"  
Ponder twiddled a knob. The image zoomed out. This time, the wizards gasped. Vimes frowned. "Who's she?"  
Ridcully cleared his throat. "You'd feel better not knowing."  
"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," added Ponder.  
But there was a glint in Vimes' eye as he said, "Try me."


	4. Not of this Disc

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!  
**_BekaJWP_ - Do you post on the Ankh-Morpork forum?  
_Tinúviel3_ - I'll try to make them longer, but it seems to delete spaces between words every time I save it.  
_MK_- You'll see now...

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Four: Not of this Disc...**

Ponder Stibbons took a deep breath, but almost whispered the words anyway. "An elf."  
"An elf?!" Ridcully spluttered. "That's the best you can do? That, sir," he pointed at the Omniscope, "is one of the most devious, most evil, most self-centred creatures in the universe."  
"The multiverse," said Stibbons, for emphasis as much as correction.  
"An elf?" said Vimes flatly. "An elf took my son?"  
"Yes!" said Ridcully and Ponder.  
"But they're not real!" he exploded.  
"Oh, they are," said Ridcully. "And we've _met_ that one. She's their queen, she's the most dangerous of them all. Twisted. She was at the middle of that business in Lancre. Remember all those crop circles a few years back?"  
"Yes, Sybil thought a dragon had slipped his collar," said Vimes, "but there were no- carry on."  
"Well, that was her," said Ridcully. "They call it Circle Time up in the mountains. Something to do with universes touching..."  
"And what would ... _she_ ... want with my son?" asked Vimes icily.  
"She likes children," said Ponder simply.  
"Is he in much danger?"  
"Oh yes," said Ridcully. "Absolutely."  
"Lots," Ponder added fervently. "Though he should be all right for the time being."  
"The time being?"  
"Until she works out that he doesn't work like clockwork."  
"So where is he now?"  
Ponder glanced at his superior. "I can't be certain," he said, "but odds on... he's in another universe."  
And then Carrot and Angua came in, closely followed by Lord Vetinari. Vimes stared.

* * *

"We came about the arrow," said Carrot, when Vimes took him aside, "but Lady Sybil told us about the - the other thing. She said you just ran off. Angua followed your trail, she said she couldn't find young Sam's."  
"No," said Vimes bitterly, "she wouldn't. The wizards here have a _theory_ about that. I wasn't sure about it until just now."  
Carrot nodded. "This is the first place I would come, if Angua's nose failed."  
"Those floorboards creak," said Vimes, shaking his head, "and Sybil was in the kitchen all morning."  
"Yes," said Carrot. "She said."  
"And what's his lordship doing here?" asked Vimes.  
"I just had that meeting with him," said Carrot. Amazingly, he managed to avoid sounding reproachful. "I gave him Cheery's report. He said the arrow suggested some connection to the Agatean Empire because of the materials."  
"Yes, Carrot, but why is he _here_?"  
"Couldn't say, sir. He did say he wanted a look at the crime scene, but he arrived at the same time as me - Angua clacked me while Iwas at the Palace and I came straight here. I'll swear his coach never passed me by."  
"Right," said Vimes.

It was not, of course, possible for anyone to get from the Palace to Scoone Avenue and back to UU before someone walked down to Sator Square, but his lordship had his funny ways.  
Vimes had no doubt that Lord Vetinari had committed every inch of the crime scene to memory.

"...and some detailed, if eroded, designs on the tip," Lord Vetinari was saying."Ah, Commander."  
In the meantime, Ponder Stibbons had set up another, bigger Omniscope, beside the one that rested on little Sam. He was sleeping. _I'll find you_, thought Vimes. _I'll get you home, wherever you are. Then we can worry about who wants your dad dead._  
"With respect, sir," said Vimes, "I have higher priorities at the minute."  
"Yes, Commander," said Vetinari, "but the City does not. We appear to have the Agateans participating in an attempt on one of our nobles."  
Vimes winced. Vetinari did _so_ love to rub it in.  
"And what do you make of... all this?" he gestured at the Omniscopes. Ponder was placing what seemed to be a splinter onto the sensor.  
"I think it could prove useful," said Lord Vetinari. "Ah, it appears that we have found the origin of your arrow. Take it back, Mr Stibbons."

The image of a tree zoomed backwards. Now it showed a sapient pearwood grove facing the sea, now a peninsula, now a perfect map of Agatea.  
"The south-east coast," nodded his lordship, "That would explain-"  
Vimes snapped. "My _son_ is _missing_! I don't even know if he's on the Disc! I- what?"  
"Er, I just thought you might like to know," said Ponder, "he's not."  
"Not what?"  
"Not on the Disc. I zoomed out on him, too."  
The group closed in around the smaller Omniscope. A vast expanse of land met their eyes, bounded by a coastline like none on the Discworld. Brown plains swept out westward; to the south was a huge gulf. The landscape was dominated and divided by mountain ranges.

Ridcully drew back first and cleared his throat. "And the young lad is there, you say?"  
"_Yes_, Archchancellor," sighed Ponder, "I thought we'd agreed on that."  
"Yes, capital, just checking-"  
Ponder gasped. "Look! Something's drawing it away..." An eye rimmed with flames once again filled the screen. "It's the same place!"

And then a voice, a terrible voice that was not so much heard as felt, said, "Morgoth on a _crutch!_"


	5. Catapult

**Chapter Five: Catapult**

The sheer power of the Voice had thrown them all. In the case of Ponder, Ridcully, Carrot, Angua and Vimes, it threw them sprawling on their backsides six feet away. Even Vetinari had to grab the sideboard for support.

"What happened there, Stibbons?" asked Ridcully.  
"It- it nearly broke through!"  
"It felt like it could come right through," said Carrot with a frown, "like it could burst right through into this universe."  
Ponder realised his mouth was open.  
"Er, yes, in fact. Beings like _that _one usually thrive in multispeci-al societies. People tend to be more open-minded. Things can get in and out of dimensions through people's _minds_."  
"So we're all a liability?" asked Carrot.  
Ponder shut his mouth again. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking."  
"Multispeci-al?" repeated Angua. "Then why hasn't something like that got into Ankh-Morpork?"  
"Oh, it has," Vimes moaned. "And half of it has to do with this lot." He waved a hand at the wizards.  
"I've seen those mountains before," said Ponder quietly. "Believe me, there are some _strange _creatures in that world." Ponder shuddered. "It was an odd colour, and it kept talking nonsense..."  
"Morning all."  
And then the Bursar came in.

* * *

"So, how do I go about getting to this... place?" asked Vimes.  
Ponder gave him a look of incredulity. "You can't-"  
"I'm sure we could all think of a hundred ways to _not_ go somewhere," he growled, "but you just might be able to give me one that'll _get me to my son_."  
The young wizard gulped, but not audibly. "What do you say, Archchancellor?"  
"I say tell him what he wants to know," said Ridcully, pretending to be dismissive, "if it'll get all these Watchmen out of my university."  
"-" began Ponder, but Ridcully raised a finger.  
"And if I hear the worlds 'quantum', 'rubber' or 'continuinuinuinuum' then you'll have me to reckon with."  
"Rubber?" mouthed Angua, but Carrot shrugged and shook his head.  
"Right," said Ponder, "But I just want to warn you: there's no telling where in that world you'll end up. I don't know where or when - or if - you'll be able to get back. The bridges between worlds are often one-way. It's like jumping across a stream, where one bank is three feet lower than the other. But you'll know when you've come to the right place, because part of you will always be trying to get home."  
"Right," said Vimes. "And will Sam be able to make this... jump?"  
"Quite frankly, sir," said Ponder, "I don't know if _you_ will. But it should work if you're carrying him. You just have to ... set aside a space in your mind and if you keep it clear, it'll be open to otherworldly influences. Since the world shown in the Omniscopes seems to be pretty strong at the minute, that should be the one to- oh bugger..."

* * *

Vimes felt his feet hit the ground, which was odd because he hadn't realised they'd left it. He stumbled a little, then drew himself up properly. And suddenly his breastplate was gone. He was clad in- he was _wearing_ a shirt of heavy mail covered by a light travelling cloak. And then the breeze blew across the plains, and he wondered how, being so light, it was keeping out the cold.  
But most of all, he wondered why he was speaking, and why thousands of men on horseback were listening...

* * *

Carrot landed a short way behind Vimes, wearing his usual Watchman's uniform. He looked around for his superior officer, but saw only a tall man speaking to a crowd. Then he stopped looking at the man, and looked at his _stance_. The man stood like Vimes, who moved in a sort of permanent, often barely perceptible, slouch. And as Carrot stared, the man seemed to become a few inches shorter and get skinner, but his voice was still all wrong.

* * *

Vetinari felt the wooden floor under his feet change smoothly to marble, and he was moving across it with powerful strides. He glanced out of the tower window; he had a commanding view of the city. He stopped, and shook himself a little, throwing off the fragile force that had guided him across the room. His hands stopped moving towards a black crystal globe. He turned instead to the white city. And smiled.

* * *

The Bursar shrieked. He was on a balcony a thousand feet above a wind-blasted plain. And the worst part was, he couldn't even see it. He could feel the terrible tingly suckiness of the drop before him, but he seemed to be encased in black metal. He couldn't move! He lifted the terrible dark helm...et... from his head before it could crush his skull.  
The Bursar shrieked again. There a volcano, and lots of mountains, and it was cloudy, and there was a THING four feet from his face, like a bird with no feathers, and it smelled bad, and there was something nasty on its back, something man-shaped and upright but definitely not alive or human. "What displeases you, lord?" it wheezed.  
Bursar actually squeaked, out of sheer terror. Then the Pills dug in their heels again. "The colour scheme!" he said. "I've had enough of all this darkness."  
"And what does your lordship desire?"  
"Pink!" said the Bursar. "I want the whole place done up in pink! Is this the kind of image we want to project in the Century of the Anchovy? Pink!"

* * *

"Stibbons!" warned the Archchancellor. "What the hell happened? They're gone!"  
"They're in there, sir," stammered Ponder. "I didn't actually expect that to work for them, it's simple for a wizard if the power's strong enough, but it must be... they're beyond our help, sir."  
"How long will they be gone?" asked Angua. There was a bitterness in her voice.  
"How long is a piece of string?" Ponder retorted. "It all depends on-"  
And then one of the Omniscopes shattered into five pieces. But only one shard landed in the University.


	6. Mirrors of Home

**AN: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!**  
_Keddi_: The format will be changing a bit from here on, so I won't really need to double-space, but I'll swear some of the spaces get deleted every time I save. There are sentence that I've had to correct umpteen times.  
_PrinceDarrenv2_: Thanks very much!

* * *

**  
Chapter Six: Mirrors of Home**

The little boy laughed under all the dark hair, and tottered away down the path.  
"Such a pleasant child," said the Queen, ambling along between the trees.  
"Yes, Lady," said the Elf.  
"I like this world. I may take a mortal husband _here_ instead."  
"Yes, Lady."  
There was a loud splash from further along the path.  
"Perhaps the boy has fallen in," she said idly. "Go and see."

* * *

Vimes felt like a passenger in his own body. He felt as though he could take control any time he wanted, but realised just what a bad idea that would be. There were hundreds of men down there, hanging on his every word. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck, too. Vimes didn't have a clue who these people were, or what was going on-

_They are the Rohirrim, the Horse-Lords, and they come to be led to war._

It wasn't spoken by a mysterious voice, or breathed by the passing wind. They just, sort of, _occurred_ to him, like a sudden flash of memory.  
And then Vimes' host raised his sword, leading the cheer. Something very odd happened. It felt like the slackening of a clenched fist, except the whole body was relaxing. It hadn't been tensed anyway. But nevertheless, Vimes was back in control.

He was standing on a hillock at the base of a cliff. A narrow road switchbacked across the cliff-face; presumably there would be a flat space at the top, but it was invisible from here.  
Turning away from the crowd, Vimes looked around to see who was staring at him while he was speaking. He was hard to miss.

"Mister Vimes?"  
"_Carrot_?" he wheezed. "What are you doing here?"  
The young man shifted uneasily. "I didn't really mean to, sir. But sometimes it's quite difficult to disobey instructions."

Carrot had been in Ankh-Morpork for six years, but part of him was still in Copperhead. Sometimes Vimes thought it was his common sense, but for all his simplicity Carrot was an astoundingly clear thinker, a devious investigator and one hell of a copper.

"Who else came?" asked Vimes.  
"Just me, I think," said Carrot. He gazed up the road. "I thought I saw Angua, but it was a different girl. She looked very shocked when she saw me."  
Vimes frowned. "I wonder who that could be."

_Éowyn, niece of the king of Rohan._

"And what she was doing here," he prompted.

_Watching you._

Oh, _hells_.

* * *

Lord Vetinari couldn't help but wonder what kind of an idiot his predecessor (as he chose to think of it) had been. The enemy was practically camping on his lawn! Oh yes, a few spare goons were piling up stones around the-

_Pelennor Fields_

-around the Pelennor, yes, and all his guards seemed to be simply staring moodily eastward from the walls. The city was eerily empty, like a toy castle under a rich boy's Hogswatch tree, lined as it was with ornamental soldiers. A single thought kept running through his head:

_We're all going to die._

He wasn't sure who was thinking it.

* * *

"The lord is unwell," hissed the Nazgul.  
"I _will_ deliver my message to him," said the nasty little Numenórean, "_in person_."

The Mouth of Sauron was probably the only non-suicidal in Mordor who dared defy a Ringwraith. Sauron considered him useful, but certainly not indispensable. The Nine considered him a wasp at their picnic; they had been his masters, once. A disgusting little snot, but it would be amusing if the lord lost patience and crushed him.

"I bring news from the borders, O Great One," said the Mouth. He'd been called that at school, too.  
"Hmm, island nail file in clockwork paint?"  
"A strange creature has been seen in Ithilien, lord. We think it is your spy."  
"Yes, that_ is _a nice parrot," simpered the Bursar.  
"What shall we do with him, lord?"  
"Lie low and eat ice cream, I always say! Medals!"  
"Yes, lord," said the Mouth. He gave the Nazgul a smug look on his way out.

The Bursar was far from happy, or would have been were he not so far from reality and far from sanity to boot. He had found a nice glass ball and was sitting on a vast iron throne, turning it over and over in his hands. He giggled a little.  
"Syrup of prunes, penny in moons, is this my spoon?" he sang, blissfully unaware of the two hideous creatures in the corridor beyond the hall. "OOOH!" Now the ball showed lots of pretty pictures.

"You know his commands," said the newcomers, who waved a piece of shiny glass.  
"Why is that extraordinary?"  
"The picture _moves_."  
"Show me." There was a pause. "Go on, then."

_"It's the Bursar!" _said the picture-Ponder. The Bursar waved back. Then Ridcully came into view.  
_"Bursaaar! You come back to this dimension at once!"_  
"Shan't!"  
_"You're causing trouble!"_  
The Bursar stuck out his tongue at them. "Leave me alone."  
_"Bursaaar!"_ roared the Archchancellor, but to no avail. The Bursar lef the shard of glass face down on his throne.

* * *

"We've lost him," sighed Ponder.  
"What about the others?" asked Ridcully.  
"I don't think they've found their pieces yet. But they will- wait!"  
Ridcully stopped mid-groan.  
"Look! Commander Vimes' shard!"  
A corner of the piece of Omniscope left in UU was moving. Ponder quickly slapped it on the big Omniscope's sensor; the shard's tiny image now filled the screen of the unbroken Omniscope.

The pale face of a young woman wasrising over the edge of the glass. Then it zoomed in; she was picking it up. _"Some Northern trinket_, she sighed. _"Very fine etching. I wonder who they are."_  
She seemed to be talking to herself; the wizards were careful to keep completely still. The girl sighed again.  
_"A mirror of home, perhaps. I shall go there one day, when it is my home too."_

Only when they saw the picture turn to the white of her pocket did the wizards share a horrified glance. Behind them came the sounds of crunching. "Told you it was good," said Adrian through a mouthful of toast.  
"Who _was_ she?" asked Ponder. "It sounded almost as if-"  
"Oh, she's in love with Aragorn," he said conversationally. "It's all very sad, on account of him already being involved with an elf, or I think so anyway, I saw the way they was looking at one another before the Council."  
"I told you these things aren't supposed to be used for entertainment," said Ponder weakly. Scolding was always a reliable fallback.  
"So this... Aragorn," said Ridcully, "he'd be a big leader, eh?"  
"Yes, Archchancellor. Anyone would follow him. Even dead people."  
"Somehow," Ridcully mused,"I can't see Sam Vimes inspiring mass resurrection. Captain Carrot might have it in him, but... we've really messed things up, haven't we?" he said casually.  
"Yes, Archchancellor. We have."


	7. Enchantment

**AN: Sorry about the delay, coursework, computer trouble, etc. Thanks (once again) to everyone who's bothered reading this far, and particularly to everyone on the Skund forum who are being very nice.**  
_Mind in the Ankh_: It's a good idea, but mine is more complicated than that.  
_Beka JWP_: Thanks, and you'll see... I'm using quite a few ideas from the forum to begin with, but I'm nearly finished setting the scene for the proper story.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Enchantment**

The Queen was feeling quite at ease here. The air was cool in the valley,a refreshing change from the frigid lands of her kingdom. Winter was beginning to thaw.  
But the Queen lived in an almost permanent state of dissatisfaction. She always felt as though she was missing out. She wanted to make the most of her time here, and so did her hunters. It seemed quite... familiar.

Little Sam was to ride on the Queen's horse; they were going to take a proper look at this land. They set off south, her unease fading with every mile that passed. She could feel her power growing; there was magic in the very ground.

The Queen smiled. She could be _strong_ here.

* * *

Carrot frowned at his superior officer. "I don't know, sir."  
Vimes ignored him. He had the possibly more pressing problem of young women staring at him; it could be nothing, but his host seemed to know about it.  
"And she was just... _staring_?"  
"Yes, sir. Then she spotted me, and she looked like she'd seen a ghost."  
"Right."

What am I doing here? Vimes asked himself.

_Leading an army._

Rhetorical question. But - what? How am I supposed to do that?

The tone changed now; it became a distinct voice rather than a memory. It was that of a man. He sounded both younger than Vimes and much, much older.

_This is not history as it wasmeant to be. My kin have vanished. My horse was shot. Everything has suddenly changed; the Muster is beginning and yet I remain in Dunharrow._

Ah. And that's a problem?

_The Dead must ride to Pelargir. They have no-one to summon them. They will heed none but me._

In silence, Carrot and Vimes toiled up the hill. "Where are we?" asked Carrot.  
"Hang on a minute," said Vimes, a little out of breath. They kept climbing. Vimes glanced at Carrot; the young man was still watching him expectantly. "Didn't you hear a voice?"  
Carrot frowned. "Sir?"  
"Sort of like...recalling a memory, only it's not yours?"  
Carrot's face remained blank. The mild panic that had been bubbling beneath the surface of Vimes' mind since the first new memory rose to the surface. "Right. Right. Right. So it's just me then."

_You're not going mad,_

said the Voice. That wasn't necessarily reassuring.

* * *

Unseen University was in an uproar. Angua had sent a couple of Watchmen to the University to keep Pseudopolis Yard informed of any developments. Constables Shoe and Visit were loitering near the Omniscope.  
The zombie was closely examining some the creatures in the Omniscope, while Visit was pestering Ponder, trying to make them change the name.  
"-misuse of the Great God's name-"  
"Isn't that your Corporal Nobbs?" interrupted Stibbons.

Nobby was indeed making his way towards the command centre. "Well, I was on traffic," he said defensively. "Thought I'd see how you lot are getting on."  
He peered at the Omniscopes.  
"Any sign of Mister Vimes?"  
"_No_, Nobby," said Reg. He moved to block Nobby's view of the Omniscopes, but he moved too quickly and his left ear fell off. Nobby slipped around Reg as the zombie swore.

The little corporal's eyes gleamed as he saw a rather nice ring swinging like a pendulum across the Omniscope. "Look at that," he breathed, "and that chain looks pretty cheap, sort of thing that snaps with just a little pull-"  
Entranced, Nobby reached out...

...and took the Ring.


	8. Stolen Jewellery

**AN: Thanks once more to all readers - reviewers and lurkers. Sorry about the delay for this chapter - I missed out on the U2 tickets howl of rage and sorrow and have been pretty depressed about that. Ah well.  
**_Phantomscyther_: Thank you, I'll try.  
_Adalia Glenys_: Thanks, I'm expecting the Visit thing to come up in a future book after GP so bunged it in here. And it wasn't the Ringwraiths I had in mind when I put Reg in there. :P  
_Beka JWP_: Oo indeed. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Stolen Jewellery **

Ponder Stibbons gaped at the space in front of the Omniscope which had, until just now, contained Nobby Nobbs.  
Of course, Archchancellor Ridcully had chosen the moment just before that to come check on the situation. This is true of all bosses in the multiverse. They only turn up when something goes wrong and it's your fault.

"Stibbons!" he roared, from the other side of the hall. "I thought you said we wouldn't be having any more... accidents," he finished darkly.  
"I don't know what happened," gaped Ponder, "he just disappeared."  
"I thought they had to empty their minds," said Ridcully.  
"_And _concentrate on the place," Ponder whined.  
"Empty his mind?" exclaimed Reg, absentmindedly waving his ear. "Somehow, I don't think that'll present much of a problem for Nobby."  
"Brotherhood, Constable Shoe," said Visit in his serene voice, but it was tinged with reproof. "Although he did seem quite intent upon that - inappropriately-named looking glass."  
"Yes," said Ponder, who was determined to remain in the conversation," the ring."  
"Oh," the Watchmen chorused gently, as if this explained it all.  
"Nobby is... quite the connoisseur when it comes to jewellery," said Visit diplomatically.  
Reg snorted. "Especially when it's not his."

* * *

And then it was just Nobby and the circle of gold in his hand; the world around him simply faded from stone hall to lush forest, like a dream sequence in a big-budget music video. Fawning over the little piece of stolen jewellery, he barely noticed the change... for about five seconds.

"Master?" A curly head appeared among the trees. "Why're you screaming? Is it... the Ring?" The voice had lowered to a near-whisper for that last bit; Nobby could tell that the ring merited a capital.  
Nobby took in huge hairy feet, under a body that looked pretty normal, but scaled down to half size. He opened and closed his mouth for a moment, then closed his fist on the ring. "No, I'm all right, er-" he said at last.

_Sam_

"-Sam." _Who said that?  
_"You know what Faramir said: there are dangerous folk in this land."  
"Yes, Sam," said Nobby. There suddenly seemed to be a lot of Sams in this place, if he'd heard Angua correctly. Through the keyhole, of course.  
And now there was someone eavesdropping on Nobby's own thoughts. The hunter hunted and all that.

Then he shrieked. "It's grown back!" he cried, staring at his bare feet, which were maybe an inch or two closer than usual. "It's finally grown- _my BOOTS!_"

* * *

"Mister Vimes?" said Carrot. They were nearing the top of the cliff: there was indeed an open space, with one semicircular wall - the mountainside - and on the side, a drop of up to 20 feet down to the topmost level of the wall.  
"Right now, Carrot, I'm not sure." The armour was quite heavy.  
There was a pause.  
"I'm not either, sir," he said uncertainly. "That's what I was going to ask you."  
"You're not certain that I'm me or you're not certain that you're Carrot?"  
"The first one, sir. I think."  
"And why's that?"  
Carrot took a deep breath, but hesitated. "Because if I glance at you, I see someone else. It's only when I focus that it's you."

Vimes sighed and stopped, and patted a pocket that wasn't there for a cigar case in another dimension. "Damn. It seems like I've stepped into someone else's shoes-" _again_, he added silently, resuming his pace, "-and I don't even know where to begin looking for my son."  
Carrot nodded.  
"You saw that Omniscope. It crossed at least a thousand miles between that eye and Sam."  
"A few thousand, I should think," said Carrot, who was more familiar with long-distance travel.  
"Well, it would help if we knew where the hell we are now, and how far away that bloody eye is."  
"Fiery, sir, not bloody."  
"I know what I meant."

Carrot hunched his shoulders andstuck his hands in his trouser pockets (he'd kept his Watch uniform, Vimes jealously noted). Then he cried out,withdrew them and sucked one hand. There was blood on it.

_"Carrot!"_said a small voice in his pocket.

* * *

Vetinari stretched in the seat by the throne. He'd set the entire City Guard to work on the walls. About two-thirds were on the perimeter walls - impressive though they were, Vetinari's crisp thoughts had told him that they would never hold - to buy them some more time to repair the city's defenses.

_It's a waste of time, you know._

It's more than you did.

_They're beyond repair._

And whose fault is that, exactly?

_What are you trying to imply?_

You complain about the futility of resistance, but what have you done to even the odds?

_I've-_

You have betrayed the duty that gives you the chance to hide behind the strongest defences in the land. You have no right to be here.

_Nor do you_.

It was a fair point, and not one that Vetinari planned on disputing. He had better things to do.Here, at last, was a challenge.


	9. Staying in Character

**AN: I can't _believe_ it's Chapter 9 already. Maybe I _should_ make them longer...  
**_MrsVladMagpyr_: Thanks, and - well - Nobby wouldn't be Nobby without a little boot theft. But Frodo does it in canon, too... I'll get to that soon enough.  
_Lyra_: (Nice to see an HDM fan for once) Yes you did, yes he is, not telling, and you'll see!  
_Lyggy_: Thank you!  
_Ozodrac_: Thanks! I'm not normally into crossover myself, but you know what it's like when you have a plot bunny buzzing around and can't concentrate on anything else...

**

* * *

**

**  
**

**Chapter Nine: Staying in Character **

* * *

"_Come in!_" screamed the voices in Carrot's pocket as he sucked his cut finger.

Frowning slightly, he reached cautiously into his pocket and drew out a gleaming shard of glass. Ponder Stibbons, Mustrum Ridcully, Reg Shoe and Constable Visit looked eagerly back at him. Reg seemed to be holding a stapler to his head.

"_Contact established!_" said Ponder triumphantly.

"_Shut up, Stibbons. We can see that._" The Archchancellor resurrected his grin from the pits of annoyance. "_Captain Carrot! How are you getting on?_"

"We're all right-" Carrot began, but Vimes snatched the piece of Omniscope from his hands.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" he demanded. "I thought we were going to turn up near Sam!"

Ponder licked his lips nervously. "_Yes, well, there seems to be a problem with that..._"

"I can see that!" cried Vimes. "Where's my son?"

Ponder went off-screen for a moment. Then he came back. "_He's about 600miles away. And closing._"

Vimes gave him a look of icy blankness. Then he swore and shoved the Omniscope back at Carrot. "Let's see who's in charge of this mess," he said, striding on across the plateau, bound for a particularly lavish red tent.

Carrot was acutely aware of the people peering out of their tents, apparently to look at Vimes, who was oblivious to the whole thing.  
_He's not himself_, Carrot noted, and for once in this story there were no interjections in his train of thought. _This whole thing with Sam is making him vulnerable._

Vimes' head was less tranquil. In fact, it was buzzing. 600 miles! That was two weeks' straight riding!

"How fast can these... elves... travel?" asked Carrot.  
"_We're not really sure_," said Stibbons, "_but we know someone who is_..."

* * *

It was starting to get colder. The huge horses of the elves could easily run twice as fast as normal ones, and they were racing across the uneven terrain towards Eregion. A normal horse would have taken half a day to get that far; the elves had taken two hours.  
The future duke of Ankh was getting cranky.

"Where's Mummy?" he whined in that up-and-down singsong employed by three-year-olds across the multiverse. "I want Daddy."

"Now, now precious," cooed the Queen, "just try to go to sleep."

"But I'm - not - tired!"

The Queen made soothing noises and passed her hand over the boy's head. He fell asleep instantly.

"I am beginning to tire of this one," she said.

* * *

When Nobby pictured his own face, he didn't see exactly what the rest of the world saw. Everyone does this. No amount of imagination could make Nobby easy on the eyes† but even so, stepping into someone else's body had sheared clean through his own minor self-delusions; when Nobby saw his reflection, it was that of a Hobbit, accompanied by disconcerting flashes of a face that was not completely unfamiliar. There were subtle, dismaying differences.

Shocked, Nobby focussed on his true self for the first time in about 34 years. A couple of his boils were bigger. His nose was slightly longer.

"Mr Frodo?" asked the being called Sam. "Could you..." Sam waved a piece of dried meat.  
"Oh - right," mumbled Nobby. He tore his gaze away from the dark water of the cooking pot and sat down by a tree. What am I? he thought.

_A Hobbit._

It took Sam quite a long time to hush him this time.

* * *

†_(Author's note: AARRGGGHHH!) _

_

* * *

_

The Bursar was beginning to enjoy himself. There were some odd people around here: hideous, but jolly good chaps all in all. They brought him anything he wanted.

"Lord," simpered one, "we are having difficulties in carrying out your task. The... pink, sir."

"Pink!" grinned Bursar. "Paints in the meadows, Hogfather!"

The one now known as Hogfather bowed deeply and deployed a host of Orcs to the fields of Rohan to find some pink paint.

* * *

"What news?" asked Vetinari.

"Osgiliath has fallen, lord," said the sombre messenger. "Our men have fled; a great force of Morgul-orcs passed through the city."

"How long ago?"

"An hour, perhaps?"

Vetinari nodded and rose from his stool. He crossed to the window, arms clasped behind his back in classic overlord style. "Where have they gone?"

"That's the strange thing, lord," said the messenger, "they march north, towards Rohan."

"They would cut us off..." He let the words hang in the air. Then his voice became crisp again. "What news from Amon Din?"

"There is none, lord. We have heard nothing."

Vetinari closed his eyes. The messenger couldn't hear the bickering going on behind them.

_Dead! Dead! All dead and gone! What hope is left, you deluded old fool?_

Old? I'm barely half your age.

_But I perceive your mind. It is much older than your years. Reptilian._†

I can hear yours, I can see what you've done, I know what the men call you. Dinosaur. We are not so different, you and I.

_Dinosaur indeed. All men love me!_

I have heard it asked whether it is better to be loved or feared: you've fallen on one side but I think you're a little confused. Let's put it down to senility, shall we?

Vetinari smiled slightly at the ensuing mental roar, and opened his eyes. He turned back to the messenger. "No news is good news," he said. "We would have heard if they'd seen something."

"Yes, sir."

Vetinari turned back to the window. "Light the beacons. It is beginning."

Far below, the men working in the fields saw the flames atop the White Tower and redoubled their efforts. It was starting.‡

* * *

†There might have been more truth in this than Denethor realised. A few years earlier, Vetinari had been turned into small lizard by a rogue Sourcerer.  
‡Unfortunately the Gondorians thought the war was starting, when it was in fact just the redecoration of Barad-dur and environs. Waste of drama, eh?

* * *

Keep reviewing, people!


	10. Visitors

_Tindomiel_: Thanks, and I'll try. I don't really plan the cut-off points, to be honest.  
_WargishBoromirFan_: Good point about the dinosaur thing. Garbled Khândian folklore, maybe? Oh yes, and 'argh'.

As you can tell,I struggled a lot with this chapter. It's the first time I've hated a piece so much I had to redo it. Admittedly I just did some rearranging but that's not really the point.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Visitors **

* * *

"Are you sure you're all right, master?" asked the hobbit.

"Yes, yes, fine," said Nobby. His voice twanged with anxiety. "I just need to ... be alone with my thoughts, sort of thing."  
Nobby stared at his feet as he sat back down in the hollow of the tree. He felt naked without his old steel-toed boots. Right, he thought, who are you?

_Don't be frightened._

Just - answer the question.

_My name is Frodo Baggins._

Cecil Nobbs. Everyone calls me Nobby. What're you doing in my head?

_What are you doing in my body?_

I don't know. What's going on here?

It was a moment before a reply came. The voice seemed to be thinking about it.

_How long will you be here?_

Dunno.

_Then listen carefully: you are carrying an item of great worth. You must defend it at all costs._

Why's that?

_The air you breathe, the ground you walk on, the people you meet - all will be lost if you lose the Ring._

It's a nice bit of work, I'll grant you, but why's it so special?

_Have you heard the legend of Isildur's Bane?_

Who's what now?

_You must know about the Last Alliance, surely._

Nope, sorry.

_The Dark Lord?_

* * *

.

"Do you see it?" asked Carrot. He held the Omniscope so that it faced Vimes. Or his back, at least.

"_What are we supposed to be seeing?_" said Ridcully suspiciously.

"From here," Carrot tilted his head, "he doesn't really look like himself. It's like the world is trying to persuade me that he's someone else."

Ponder nodded wisely. "_We're wizards. We see what's really there, however unlikely it is. You've broken into another world, and now it's trying to mend the gap, as it were. Just keep concentrating on his real identity. And yours._"

"Right."

"_Do you have any string?_" Stibbons was saying. "_You could wear this around your neck, give us a proper view of..._"

"How's that?" Carrot had wedged the Omniscope behind his badge. It glinted octarine in the weak sunlight.

"_Great_."

Carrot didn't voice his other concern as he hurried after his commander. He rubbed his breastplate; for a moment, he'd thought Vimes' hand went right _through _it...

Vimes pushed into the red tent and found his body once again beyond his control.

"My lord," he said, bowing his head.

A pale young woman, all in white, acknowledged him. She stood just behind the king.

"_That's her, that's her!_" hissed a voice. Carrot had just slid into the tent. The audience on his breastplate were making a fuss.

"_Him, you mean_," intoned the Archchancellor.

"_But what would _he_ be doing there?_" came the rational voice of Ponder Stibbons.

"_Circle time_," Ridcully murmured.

"_Why'd you reach under your hat just then?_"

"_The girl, look at the girl!_"

"_Try to get closer, Captain_," said Ponder. "_Something... strange... is happening_..."

"Ah, the lord Aragorn," said a man in leather armour, looking up. He wore a crown and a harassed expression. "I was told you had not yet left."

Vimes' voice box was on autopilot. "No, lord. I felt my place was here."

"So you would lead my army?" said the king coldly.

"No, Théoden, I would follow you."

Old Stoneface must be rolling in his grave! _Listen_ to me!

_He is proud. I would not ruin his chance to save his people._

There was a barb to that comment, thought Vimes. Damn.

Over on Carrot's armour, the debate was still going on:

"_What are you _talking_ about, Adrian?_"

"_That's the girl who fancies-_"

"Shut up," said Carrot, through gritted teeth.

"_Notice how she watches him?_" Adrian again. He sounded amused.

"_Shut up! Look at the king!_"

"_Well, it looks like him, and sounds like him_," conceded Stibbons.

"_That's because it bloody well _is_ him_," snapped Ridcully. "_Well, fancy that. I thought he was a bit out of his depth last time we met._"

"_Now he's organising a war._"

"_What is this, Stibbons, the state-the-bloody-obvious championships?_"

"_But - I mean - _Verence..."

* * *

The voice was both incredulous and hushed now, as though it was speaking of a great secret.

Dark Lord? You mean like old Harry Dread and that?

_What?_

You know - they had a Guild on Phedre Road till that goblin bloke thing fell in the Cut.

_What are you talking about?_

What?

_What?_

Now the voice was exasperated.

_An evil power has arisen in the land. This Ring is the key to its power. We - that is, my servant Sam and myself - are on a quest to destroy it._

Destroy it? I could get at least 50 dollars for something like this!

_You cannot sell it._

Why not?

_It is intrinsically evil!_

And?

_Look, just get me across those mountains-_

What mountains are they? Are we near the Hub?

_They are the Mountains of Shadow. What is this 'hub'?_

Oh dear. Er - never mind. So, if I get over these mountains, what are you going to do until then?

_I shall... rest. I have carried the burden for many hundreds of miles. This could be just what I need to complete my errand. I am becoming quite weak._

Right. So you want me to climb a load of mountains with this oddball just so's _you_ can have a rest?

_Yes, that's one way of-_

You must to be joking. I could live the high life if I sell this little thing...

Nobby made to get up, intent on finding some way back to Ankh-Morpork. Made to, didn't quite manage it. Every muscle seemed to have turned to concrete, every sinew to steel.

_You will not go._

What've you done? Let me go!

_No. I cannot let you take the Ring._

Take your precious Ring, then! Just stop this! It hurts!

_I've tried. I can't take full control, but I can make things difficult if you make them difficult for me. The quest will not fail.  
In return you will be allowed to be near the Ring. I can sense its grip on you already. It will be reward enough._

Nobby's motor functions returned. He unstiffened. Then Nobby, suspicious of whatthis voice in his head could do, held up the Ring experimentally. The little corner of his mind that was now known as Frodo reacted, like the tightening of a muscle. Nobby stood up, Ring in hand. He drew back the arm-  
The arm froze mid-motion.

_No!_

Right then! I get the idea.

It was about that time that Nobby realised two things: firstly, that he was a prisoner of his own head (or not his own head, he didn't know which was worse); secondly, that a dark shape was creeping up the hillside towards them.

"Damn - hill," hissed the thin creature, as Nobby stared in horror. Another shape, half-hidden among the trees to the right, was keeping pace with it. "Bloody - piece of -"

The being squinted up at Nobby. "Hang on," it panted, "You're _Nobby Nobbs_, aren't you?"

"Oh, thank gods," sighed Nobby. "Someone _normal_."

"You were in the library last week, right?" asked the thing. Its skin had a strange, bluish sheen. "You got some books about the feminine mind and dressmaking."

Nobby's face pinched again. "How'd you know that?"

"It's me. Rincewind. Bugger!" he picked a twig off the slightly-sticky sole of his wide foot.  
Something big bounded through the trees. It looked like a treasure chest on legs - hundreds of legs - and then it was gone, out into the forest on the other side of the clearing.

"Oh," said Sam contemptuously, from the cooking pot, apparently unaware of the Luggage."_You're_ back."

"Yess," hissed the Rincewind-thing. Then he snapped back to normal speech.  
"You know. Red robe. Pointy hat. I crawl through the city gates every few months, usually chased by something horrible, or just-escaped from something horrible. I can't even look in a mirror without winding up on some dangerous quest. Incidentally, what's this quest, and how dangerous is it? On a scale of one to ten."

And as Nobby stared, the skin became healthier colour and the shape filled out. Just as an old face made of shadows suddenly became a young woman's, the _thing_ now looked like a bedraggled man.  
Nobby opened his mouth to answer, just as a slight tremor ran through the earth.

"There you go!" said Rincewind, with terrible happiness.

He was youngish for a wizard, though that might have been because to Nobby, wizard beard, and the older the wizard the bushier the beard; Rincewind's was a wiry tuft, far from flourishing. His robe was frayed and threadbare in places.

The ground shook again.

"So, we'll say... 6 and a half, then?"

**

* * *

**

**Note to Tolkien purists:** this is where it all gets messy.  
Bursar has screwed around with Sauron's strategies, which is why the Morgul-host is passing on the 9th of March. Frodo and Sam are behind schedule - they're still in Ithilien.  
By rights, Aragorn should be on the Paths of the Dead; Vimes' arrival has screwed that up too.  
Théoden's just arrived at Dunharrow. We'll just say he rode faster, as opposed to "Egleriel is sloppy".


	11. The Beginnings of a Journey

_Andy W_: Your suspicions were correct: that last chapter was _terrible_. I'll try to make this one better. Poor old Sam - all the Sams - and I'll work on making the dialogue clearer. I couldn't think of another way to do the thoughts.

_Vilya74_: Thanks!

_BekaJWP_: At this rate, it should run to 20-30 chapters.

_Tinuviel3_: salutes Will do!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: The Beginnings of a Journey**

* * *

Somewhere inside an alien mind, Sam Vimes was seething.

Let _me_ talk!

But the king had moved on to another map.

"You took my counsel, my lord," said the woman. She sounded both surprised and pleased.

"Yes, lady," said Vimes' mouth. "At the last, it seemed to me a needless danger."

"Kind of you to heed poor Éowyn," she said coldly. The smile had something of a sneer to it.

_Pained and proud, but pleased nonetheless._

What are you talking about?

The voice didn't answer. Vimes regained control, and watched her go with a worried expression. And then Carrot was at his elbow.

"I need to speak to the king," he said.

"I don't know if that's a good idea. My - passenger -" he spat the word "- took over before I could say a word."

"But I don't have... one of those," said Carrot carefully.

"That's what I'm afraid of. These aren't Discworld people, Carrot."

"The king is, sir," Carrot persisted quietly. "The wizards recognise him, apparentlyhe rules a kingdom up in the Ramtops."

Vimes gave him a 'yeah, right' look, but Carrot had already pushed oninto the tent. "Excuse me, sir," Vimes heard him say, "can I have a word in private?"

* * *

"Have my eyes gone all funny," whispered Nobby, "or is that army wearing _pink_?"

"You're right, Mr Frodo," said Sam in an awed voice.

Rincewind rolled his eyes. "Only the ones at the front. Something's not right," he said.

"Damn right," said Nobby. "I'm not a conny-sewer, but that shade is appalling."

Sam and Rincewind stared at the little humanoid for a moment. Then Sam said, "I suppose we'd best press on. It looks like the war's starting already."

* * *

"You sent him _where?_"  
Sybil Vimes had arrived at Unseen University, and was making her presence felt. To the rafters.

"We're calling it Medium-Earth, milady," said Ponder Stibbons shakily. "Youcan see him if you like..."

But she'd already pushed past him to the Omniscopes.And then she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank gods _he's_ safe, at least."  
Those standing closest by were surprised to see tears in her eyes. Sybil stared at the screen for a moment, took a deep, calming breath.  
"And my son? Is there any word?"

Stibbons quickly twiddled some instruments on another Omniscope and a sleeping baby came into view. Sybil nodded.

"He's a captive of the elves, madam," said Ponder. "But don't worry. We're calling the experts."

* * *

"Oh, Esme, you old softie," grinned Nanny Ogg. "One note and you're off like a shot."

"_Look!_" Granny snapped, thrusting the letter at her. "Read it."

_Emergency. Elves in Ankh-Morpork. Child kidnapped.  
Not a joke this time. _

Mustrum

"Oh... When'd you get it?"

"It just turned up in my kitchen," said Granny. "If this turns out to be a trick..."

* * *

"I'm from the Discworld," said Carrot. The word seemed to trigger a change in the king. His face became less lined; other subtle changes built up until Carrot was looking at a completely different face. It sighed.

"Are you here to rescue me?" it begged.

"Sadly, no," said Carrot. He gestured at Vimes."You see that man over there? We're looking for his son."

"Oh. Let me guess - elves?"

"Yes, how did you-"

"Go north, they like the cold. And..." the man leaned closer, "_get me out of here_."


	12. Bogeys

**Okay, people, sorry about the delay. I got... sidetracked... ;-)**

_Eridala_: Carrot _has_ stepped into a LotR character's role. I'm surprised nobody's worked it out yet. (Of course maybe plenty have and said 'how lame' and stopped reading this.) Ah well, I'll continue the mystery for a couple more chapters.  
Yes, Verence is Théoden. Vimes is Aragorn, but obviously everyone would expect Carrot to step into that role. Half the fun...  
And yes, the witches are on the way.

_Blank Ned_: Hell, I write filks as well. At least yours are _good_ filks. Angua as Éowyn? Could be fun, but I have other plans for Éowyn...

_Queenstheif Draconess Herselve_: Thank you! Love the nick.

_ihadanepiphany_: "Annoy" doesn't cover it! Muhuhaha. Your other questions are hereby answered...

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Bogeys **

* * *

"I just... I want to get back," he said sadly. The king looked like a kicked puppy.

Carrot nodded. "I'll do what I can, sir."

"So will I," said the pale man. "Tell your friend... he has my sympathy. I've brushed with these elves before. And," he hesitated, "I have a daughter. I was with her just before I arrived here. My only hope is that _she_ escaped."

"North, you said?"

"Wherever it's cold."

* * *

"But you can't just _leave_," Magrat wailed. "Especially during-" she lowered her voice "-Circle Time."

"It's Circle Time that's causing the problems," said Granny briskly. "They've taken a child in Ankh."

"And _I'm_ going because there's no telling what Esme could get up to without a chaperone," said Nanny.

Granny rolled her eyes. "As I recall, chaperones never bothered _you_ too much."

"As _I_ recall," Nanny smirked, "you only ever needed a chaperone with one young fellow-"

"Gytha!"

Magrat looked between them wearily. "Well, I suppose there's always Agnes. She's capable."

"She can cope all right for a few weeks," agreed Granny.

Nanny glanced around the hall. "I notice our Shawn's not here," she remarked. "Ain't we important enough for a herald?"

"He decided Verence and young Esme needed a guard," Magrat sighed. "They should have been back an hour ago."

"Where were they walking?" asked Granny sharply.

"Oh, up in the- oh gods, you don't think..."

* * *

A third Omniscope had been fished out and set to show Medium Earth with a chunk of earth on the sensor. In theory, it should show any piece of the Disc that had ended up in Medium Earth, such as a piece of mud on the bottom of a shoe, or as a speck of dust on a jacket. Of course, there was no guarantee that the targets would still be wearing their normal clothes, but it was worth a shot.

"We've got another bogey over here," said the Dean. He'd taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the Omniscopes and was, as usual, spouting meaningless catchphrases. Right now, the Omniscope showed a green smudge, like a grass-stain.

"Blow your nose then," said the Archchancellor.

"No, Archchancellor," said Ponder. He adjusted the angle and the full scene swung into view. "Look at this..."

An all-too-familiar box on legs was trotting along behind a scrawny, red-robed figure. Something bandy-legged in green trudged alongside it; the only even vaguely normal-looking individual was four feet tall and had a saucepan over his back.

"Isn't that one of ours?" asked Ridcully slowly. "Rince... wind?"

"Yes, Archchancellor," said Ponder, "and that's Nobby Nobbs if I'm not mistaken."

"Odd," said Reg, "he doesn't seem to be hiding."

Ponder tweaked and twisted a few more instruments so that Nobby filled most of the screen. His face carried a worried expression under the skin condition. He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a golden ring on a long chain. He looked at it for a moment, then clenched his fist around it.

"Now that _is _strange..." said Ridcully.

* * *

"Well, sir," said Carrot, "I couldn't get much out of the king. He just said to go where it's cold."

"Good man," said Vimes. "We'll-"  
And then Carrot saw his commander's features slide out of focus. It was unnerving.  
"We shall not be going anywhere," said the face. "We other duties."

This was, of course, in keeping with Carrot's conviction that personal wasn't the same as important, but he respected Vimes enough to avoid judging.

The problem was, it _wasn't_ Vimes who was now striding back outside...


End file.
